


Forging a Path

by HelRegin



Series: Naughty Norn [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Jotun Slaying, One Shot, Spoilers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 03:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17717366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelRegin/pseuds/HelRegin
Summary: Föbe had been living in Hoelbrak for a few weeks.  It was comfortable, Whitebear had seen she was settled into comfortable rooms.  Unlike home she didn’t have to walk for an hour in order to get to a cooking station or a merchant.  Hoelbrak was a hive of activity, with norn coming from all over the shiverpeaks to meet with each other.





	Forging a Path

_ Some say we should not fight Jormag.  I say the greatest risk is wager nothing at all.  One day, a hero will lead us home and we will break the dragon’s icy grip. _

Föbe had been living in Hoelbrak for a few weeks.  It was comfortable, Whitebear had seen she was settled into comfortable rooms.  Unlike home she didn’t have to walk for an hour in order to get to a cooking station or a merchant.  Hoelbrak was a hive of activity, with norn coming from all over the shiverpeaks to meet with each other.  

Skarti had quickly introduced her to the other wolfborn.  It was clear Hoelbrak was his home, and he moved through it with a sense of ease and relaxation which Föbe didn’t think she had ever felt.  It was easy to be pulled along in his wake, and she spent the first few days exploring, laughing and fucking in dark corners and on soft fur lined beds.  It was fun and raucous, but soon Föbe began to feel something restless creep under her skin, because ultimately, it was safe. Of course there was the occasional brawl, this was the primary settlement for norn after all.  

For Föbe, this safety twitched along her arms, up her back and down into her feet.  She found wandering around looking for something during the day while Skarti was busy with the wolfborn.  She helped a soft hearted norn who wanted to care for some fast moving rabbits. She kept the local wildlife at bay while loggers worked in amongst the forests outside of Hoelbrak and she hunted.  These small acts didn’t make the restlessness disappear, she could almost convince herself that she could be content living in Hoelbrak with Skarti. 

At night when they had finished and he was breathing deeply in his sleep beside her, however, she wasn’t so sure.  Skarti made her laugh, and she enjoyed his company, but these little acts of kindness couldn’t hold back the fear of an empty death.  The idea that when she passed she would would fade like snow in the sun. Skarti had found his legend here in Hoelbrak. He and his brother would be remembered as fierce warriors who kept peace.  With a people as unruly as the norn this was no mean feat. But how would Föbe be remembered? A passing note in the records of Durmand Priory as Skarti’s woman? 

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a letter she had received on her second day in Hoelbrak.  

 

_ Greeting.  No less than four strangers came up to me yesterday to speak of your recent exploits.  You are a rare find in these dark times, someone who selflessly protects so many lives.  May the Spirits watch over you. _

_ Eir Stegalkin   _

 

She wasn’t sure what had prompted the legendary ranger to write to her.  It could have been the help she gave to Kevach and his people at Hunter’s Lake, or the support she had given the lion guard in fighting the dragon’s corruption.  Both had been small acts, she had just been passing through trying to kill some time. She was not sure if they warranted the praise Eir had offered her. A couple of times she had tried to find the norn at her homestead, but she was busy and could not spare Föbe the time.

Torchlight flickered from outside her chamber, and she tucked the note away rolling onto her side away from Skarti.  She had attended the Great Hunt in order to forge a path for herself, for the first time in her life she could feel that resolve waver.

When she woke the next morning Skarti was already gone and her bed cold where he had slept.  It didn’t particularly bother her that he didn’t wake with her. Had she looked to close she might have worried that their easy relationship was due to the apathy that was slowly creeping on her soul.

She washed and quickly dressed in her usual pink light armour.  Against the browns and greys of the great lodge she stood out clearly, even on busy days when there were many people moving around the loft halls and outside paths linking the various steads together.

Once dressed she packed a light breakfast and picked up her axe and staff, ready to be on her way.  She almost missed the note someone had pinned to her door. Tucking away her things she opened it and read absentmindedly while she made her way down the wide stairs to the main communal area in the lodge.

 

_ Hail Slayer of Issormir! _

_ I heard of your victory in the Great Hunt, and Eir Stegalkin herself recommended I contact you.  I have a challenge for you, one that will benefit us both if you are willing to meet it. I await your arrival in Hoelbrak, but glory waits for no norn!  Come see me, and I guarantee both our legends will grow! _

_ Beigarth the Blacksmith _

 

Föbe had met Beigarth briefly before when she had gone to him with a broken Axe.  He had reforged something of good quality for her, and quickly enough she had still been able to hunt that day.  She supposed she owed him a favour. She liked the redheaded smith, who was gruff but treated everyone, no matter what race, with equanimity.  She wondered what Eir could have told him to make him reach out to her. 

Her heart began to race as she headed to the centre of the Great Lodge to meet him.  She knew he would likely be by his forge next to the mighty fang of Jormag. It hung in the centre of the Great Lodge, and some days Föbe was certain she could feel the cold energy of the Elder Dragon leaking from the cruel trophy.

His letter had sounded urgent.  She reasoned this was why her normally steady step sped up into a run and she drew closer.  The promise of glory spurring her forward at an almost unnatural speed. 

She was speaking before she had even come to a full stop.  Her voice ringing out clear and strong above the sound of the nearby forge Beigarth had set up.  

“Beigarth the Smith!”  He turned to face her and smiled.  “What would you have of this season’s finest slayer?”  She grinned coming to a stop beside him and clasping his offered hand in a warm greeting.

“You’re mighty confident for one so young.”  He laughed, his green eyes sparkling like snow falling on grass.  “I like that.Remind me of when I won the Great Hunt … but that was a long time ago.  I chose smithing over hunting, and I never regretted it. Now it’s time to forge my masterpiece, a mighty weapon to break Jormag’s tooth.” Föbe blinked at him in confusion.

“Nothing has so much as scratched the tooth in over a hundred years.  What makes you think you could craft such a thing?” She asked incredulously.

“Deldrimor steel.”  Now Föbe knew he must have become frost touched in the head.  “If I can get my hands on enough of it, I could make a weapon to shatter mountains!”  Deldrimor steel hadn’t been seen in the Shiverpeaks for 200 years, ever since the dwarves had become stone.

“The secret of the alloy was lost with the dwarves,” Beigarth continued, “but I can smelt existing relics into the steel I need.  Such artifacts have surfaced in a jotun cave near Grawlenfijord.” Grawlenfijord was somewhere that Grawlenfijord tried to spend as little time as she could in all honesty.  It was riddled with Grawl as the name would suggest, there were two tribes there if Föbe remembered correctly. But worse was the Jotun that roamed the riverside and hills in that area.  Jotun were nasty lumbering beasts, bigger than norn and dumb as rocks. They were known for lashing out at anyone they saw as intruders. “That’s why I sent for you. If you can beat back the jotun and collect the artifacts I need to forge the weapon, you might be worthy of bearing it.”  Well that was definitely something worth facing jotun and grawl for. If she understood Beigarth’s logic, this was a chance to weild a weapon capable of slaying a dragon. “Interested?” 

“Interested?”  Föbe laughed, he knew he had her.  “I’m determined! Ready your forge for dwarven metal, smithy!”  Beigarth laughed again and marked her map for her. That done Föbe quickly headed out of Hoelbrak and towards the Wayfarer Foothills.  

Every time she entered the familiar territory she was surprised how less and less it felt like home to her.  Grawlenfjord lay to the South-East. She quickly established a pace which she would be able to sustain for the entire journey and still have enough energy to fight her way through the caves to reach the artefacts Beigarth needed.  

As she approached she paused downwind to gage what creatures patrolled the area.  It was heavy with Jotun, two of which seemed to be guarding a norn prisoner. It seemed this would not be as simple as sneaking in and recovering some artefacts, she couldn’t leave the man behind.

Rolling her shoulders and summoning her death magic she made her way to where they had him chained up.  She felt the icy touch of death like a cold river running around her ankles. The jotun’s life energy burned in her other vision, and she knew there were more inside.  As she drew closer one noticed her and ran at her, club raised in attack.

“Run insect!  Leave before I tear your arms off and beat you to death with them.”  Föbe admired the sentiment, but she was the mistress of death. She knew as he swung and missed that today would not be her day to die.  

She swung her axe viciously catching one Jotun in the shoulder, her magic latching on as his blood splattered across the ground, leeching the life out of him in a way no ordinary axe wound was capable of. 

Over the roar of the second Jotun, Föbe heard the norn call out to her.

“I need help!  These ugly lumps mean to kill me!”  Well that was apparent, but if he continued to shout like that he would raise the alarm and Föbe would be quickly overwhelmed by their number.  Dispatching the second Jotun with a brutal slash across the neck, he stepped over the gurgling carcass to free the fool. Drawing closer she realised it was Lundvarr the Intrepid.  She should have known he would have stumbled somewhere he should not be.

“Thank you.”  At least he had the decency to blush as she broke the chain at his ankle.  “I can take care of myself from here, but there are more prisoners inside.”  Spirits, what were these Jotun up to that they were capturing norn. While not completely out of character, it was unusual for the Jotun to bother with prisoners.  Seeing the confusion on her face Lundvarr answered her silent question. “The Sons dragged them in, and then I heard screams.” Föbe helped him to his feet, but he quickly shook off her grip and gestured towards the cave.  “Don’t worry about me, help them!” 

She should have known the Sons had something to do with this.  Skarti had warned her about them when she had first arrived in Hoelbrak.  They were an all-male cult who had rejected all sense and followed Jormag as the supreme predator.  

_ “That many men in one place” Skarti had said laughing with the other wolfborn, “and there is bound to be little sense.” _

Föbe creeped into the cave, trying to stick to the shadows and be remain as quiet as she could.  As she entered she could smell death coming from inside the cave, her necromancer magic surged through her chest.  There had been many deaths here, and that could make her magic prone to rebellion if she did not keep a firm grasp on it.

She drew closer to another group of Jotun, and she could hear the deep voices rumble in conversation.  She crouched against the wall of the cave and listened as they moved slowly but surely in her direction.

“We will make another offering.  A hunter who wandered too close. He is strong.  His sacrifice will gain us power.” Föbe smiled to herself.  If they were talking about Lundvarr then they were in for a nasty shock.

“We could butcher an entire homestead without this ‘dragon’. This ceremony is a waste.”  It seemed as though not all the Jotun were in agreement, this was interesting. Perhaps if it came to it, they could persuade some to fight against the dragon.  

“That faithless attitude if the reason for our decline.  Don’t be so eager to embrace ignorance.” Föbe rolled her eyes at the blind argument of this Zealot.

“We live no better than animals!  Ignorance is relying on others to save us.  That will be our downfall.” Föbe quickly sprung.  Nothing would save these brute Jotun today. Quickly, she dispatched each one.  Feeling the tug and snap of each life force. She didn’t linger long, moving further into the cave before the last Jotun had even hit the ground.  Soon she could see a macabre shrine. It was crude, but clearly dedicated to Jormag. To the side she could see a pile of Dwarven trinkets, but they held her attention only briefly.  Strewn across the shrine were the bodies of dead norn. She quickly hid herself and gazed in horror as she recognised one of the bodies piled as a grotesque offering. Frija had been a kind woman, and a keen hunter.  Not the strongest, but her quick wit had made her a well respected hunter. She had been only a few years older than Föbe.

“Jormag, hear us!”  One of the Jotun began.  “Give us the strength to reclaim our birthright.”

“Jormag, give us strength.”  The others intoned in ritual response.

“Accept this offering of blood and bone.  Make our enemies yours, and we will make your enemies our own.”  Föbe would show these bastards what it meant to be an enemy of the norn.  She felt the river of death rising from her ankles up to her knees, rising and rising, until her thighs hips and spine were all submerged in the cold of her powers.

“Jormag, give us strength.”  Religions were the tribes of cowards, sheep and madmen.  Only the weak of mind, body and spirit, would allow others will to consume one's own.  With this thought her resolve hardened, and she felt the last tether snap. 

“In your name, we will destroy them all.  We will rule this land once more. Jormag, give us strength!”  The Jotun’s voice reached the fevered pitch of a priest lost to his own ego, and once again the surrounding Jotun responded, without thought.

“Jormag, give us strength.”  Föbe sprang.

“Where is your dragon now?”  She cut down the closest one to her as the priest turned to face her with a snarl of hatred spread across his features.

Slashing and cutting her way through the Jotun she closed in on the priest.  His hands still red with Freja’s blood. Föbe could hear and enraged screech echo off the walls of the cave and it was only in it’s dying that she realised it had been hers.  Her shoulder burned where the priests arcane magic had hit her, but she was one with death now, and she offered the priests life in place of her own.

She was not sure how long she stood panting in front of the shrine.  It could have been seconds or minutes, but eventually death receded from her body and she put her weapons away.  She stooped to pick up the artefacts, they glittered with an unnatural light, and she hoped there would be enough there for Beigarth to create his weapon.  They had to stop such senseless cruelty from spreading through Tyria. She knelt before poor Frija’s body.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” she whispered the words as if she could wake Frija if she spoke too loudly, “but I promise no one else will wind up like this.”  Her kind words echoed throughout the cave. The shrine remained unchanged for her sentiment, and she shook her head sadly as she turned to leave.

The journey back to Hoelbrak took longer than she had expected as in her haste to set off she had left her portal stone back in the chest in her rooms.  As the adrenaline receded from her body too, so too did her wounds begin to make themselves known. 

Upon entering the Great Lodge she could hear music drifting from somewhere in the upper levels.  The noise faint but it had the instant effect of making her feel relaxed. Perhaps it was not such a bad thing that there were small corners of the world where one could feel safe.  Where friends would greet you with a smile and a warm bed and hot meal could be found.

She made her way back over to Beigarth, and quieter than this morning, greeted him once more.

“I brought your dwarven steel, blacksmith.”  She handed the artefacts over to him. “I also saw the bodies of the other hunters you sent.”  Seeing his eyes widen in surprise she knew she had been right about her hunch of how Frija and the others had found their way to the cave.  Frija had been a smart woman, and would not have just stumbled into Grawlenfjord. “Those jotun are worshiping the ice dragon.”

“Bear’s breath!  I didn’t know that!”  His surprise seemed genuine, and Föbe was relieved that he had not knowingly sent good hunters to their death.  “I’ll take the steel off your hand, but I can’t do anything about the jotun.” He paused and seemed to assess Föbe.  “Though I do know someone who can.” He put the steel away and then turned back to Föbe. “ Do you know Eir Stegalkin?  Tall, beautiful,” Föbe felt herself blush, and tried not to reach to where she had tucked Eir’s note next to her breast, “travels with a huge black wolf?  She killed one of the ice dragon’s strongest lieutenants.”

“Of course.  She fought beside me against Issormir, and I’ve heard songs of her epic deeds at several moots.”  Ever since she was young Föbe had treasured each song or poem about the woman. 

“She could help us.”  Föbe nodded eagerly. Beigarth looked at her sideways on, a small smile tugging at his lip.  “And, not to be a gossip or anything, I hear she's taking quite an interest in you since the Great Hunt.”

“In me?”  Föbe couldn’t help the way her voice almost squeaked in surprise.  Clearing her through she pitched her voice lower than normal in hopes of covering it up, but judging the way Beigarth’s smile widened, she wasn’t that convincing.  “Why?”

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure.”  He looked her up and down. “Perhaps you impressed her.  In any case, ask her about these jotun, and I’m sure she’ll lend a hand.”   

Föbe thanked Beigarth and then made her way to leave the lodge and head over to Stonewrights Steading.  It was only the look of horror from a passing human that made her look down at her armour. She was still covered in Jotun blood.  Once again the pain in her shoulder reared its ugly head and she knew she was in no condition to begin looking for another fight. Glancing at the gap in the enormous doors, she realised it was night outside too.  Perhaps Eir would not appreciate her calling this late either.

Mind set to head off first thing instead she made her way up the stairs to her rooms.  As she entered her own private rooms, she began stripping off her armour. She made short work of cleaning it and hanging it out to dry.  She would always be greatful the Spirits had called her to death rather than the path of a warriror, Skarti’s heavy armour sometimes took hours to clean after a grisly day.  

Leaving her undergarments in a trail she heated water and filled a bath in the small washroom.  The hot water eased aches she didn’t even realise she had been carrying with her. Soon the room was filled with warm steam and the last scent of death was washed away.  Although when she closed her eyes it was Frija’s lifeless ae she saw. She would have to write to her wife and tell her what had happened.

She was so tired that she didn’t really even hear Skarti enter the room until his voice gently interrupted her reverie.

“You look like you were on caught by the wrong end of a Dolyak stampede.”  She forced her tired eyes open and watched as he brought a chair close to the edge of the bath, and plonked himself down next to her.  She rolled her head to one side, wincing as something popped and realigned itself in her spine.

“You should see the other guy… guys… jotun.”  She tried for jovial but even she had to admit she sounded a bit pathetic.  Skarti didn’t seem to mind. He just smiled warmly and whistled low.

“Sounds like you have been busy.”  He reached for a jug and a sponge and some soap from the small shelf next to the bath.  “Lean forward.” He started by wetting the sponge and running it across her shoulder gently.  She winced a little as he went over the bruising, but the skin remained unbroken. Skarti then guided her to lean back slightly so he could wash her hair.  As he massaged her scalp she looked up into his eyes. 

He gently cleaned the gor out of her hair and she told him about the message Beigarth, about freeing the intrepid norn outside the cave.  She told him how it felt to kill the jotun and about her rage at finding an old friend slaughtered on the altar. He kissed her gently and fetched a towel, helping her out of the bath and wrapping her up in it.  

“What next?”  he asked calmly, drawing her close so she could rest her head on his shoulder.   She let out a tired sigh.

“I need to speak to Eir first thing tomorrow and tell her about what I found.”  She slipped one hand under his shirt, stroking his back gently. He hummed quietly in her ear and then pulled back to give her a sly look.

“Then you are still mine for one more night.”  Her eyes widened. It was the first time one of them had acknowledge what they both knew, that their fates lead them in different directions.  She knew his legend tied him to Hoelbrak, while hers was still being forged. 

“Skarti I ...”  

“Don’t worry hero.”  he stroked her face, his hand running down to her arm until he held her hand and lead her back into her room.  He always made it so easy for them. It had been easy to come together, and now that they could both see they would be separating soon, he was once again making it easy for her to leave.

“Thank-you.”  Föbe let herself be led over to the bed, but once there she twisted the grip he had and pushed him down onto the bed.  He landed with a surprised laugh. She straddled him quickly to prevent him from sitting up and kissed him fiercely.

Her tongue teased his lips and he quickly let her deepen the kiss, moving into a form of communication they were both more comfortable with.  She freed his hard cock from his trousers and soon he was efficiently opening her up with his fingers. She didn’t have the patience to tolerate any teasing, and seeming to sense that he was soon withdrawing his fingers and urging her to rise up and into position.

Then he was thrusting up into her as she lowered her hips gasping at the sensation of being full and alive.  She set a punishingly slow pace. She knew Skarti wouldn’t tolerate it for long, but she enjoyed the sensation of being in control while she could, rolling her hips at just the right angle that she could feel every inch of him slide in and out of her.  

His hands ran up her body to palm her breasts, squeezing in time with her thrusts.  She threw her head back and she could feel her orgasm riding up in her. As she felt her walls squeeze tight around her, she heard Skarti growl from below her.  His hands flying to her hips urging her to move faster. Her orgasm crashed through her as they fought for control over the pace. As her climax swept through her, leaving her shuddering and her thighs shaking, Skarti won the fight for control.  

Without withdrawing from her, he rolled them over and set quicker pace.  She wrapped her legs around him and kissed his neck as he chased his own orgasm.  Soon he was leaning back, grabbing her hips hard enough to bruise and grunting out his release.

Panting he withdrew and rolled to lie next to her.  After he had caught his breath he reached across the bed to grasp her hand and bring it to his lips.  

“If I could I would tie you to this bed and never let you leave.”  That was the closest he would ever get to asking her to stay.

“Skarti.”  She said his voice quiet and low.  It was a plea and a question all at once.  “I can’t let what happened in that cave happen again.”  Skarti let out a rush of breath and nodded, turning to face her.

“I know sweets.”  She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous nickname.  “You know, if you ever want to give up the hunting, there is always a spot on the wolfborn for you.”  Föbe smiled and kissed him short and soft.

“If I ever give up hunting, you will be the first to know.”  Her chest was tight with the unspoken words. They both knew that her conversation with Eir tomorrow would be the start of something.

_ I gave the bards something new to sing about by helping the people of Wayfarer Hills. I also received a message from Beigarth the Smith, seeking my help. I'm on my way. Soon everybody will know my name! _

_ Beigarth the Smith is starting a new project, and he wants my help. He swears his new blade will be able to cut mountains in half, but it requires a special type of metal that can only be found in the jotun-infested caves near Hoelbrak. This will be a chance for me to test my might and earn Beigarth's favor. _

_ I bested the jotun in the cave. Recovering Beigarth's steel was simpler once they were out of the way, but I'm troubled by the shrine to Jormag I saw there. The jotun seem to have been worshipping it. Beigarth will want to know more. _

_ I collected the steel Beigarth needs to forge his weapon, but I also saw jotun in the caves, worshipping at an altar to the ice dragon Jormag! I'm going to tell Eir Stegalkin about this - nobody has more experience battling Jormag's corruption than her. _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
